


The King of Bugs

by pikfic



Category: Pikmin (Video Game)
Genre: aka the au where louie turns evil and stays that way, king of bugs au, maybe even 100 percent angst, mostly angst, non chronological chapters, probably 99 percent angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikfic/pseuds/pikfic
Summary: Louie was left behind, left to fend for himself, and he did so- with stunning success. Olimar came back for him, and in an ideal world, saved him from the frenzied madness of a survival instinct that consumed him. This is not that world. This is the world where Olimar didn't- couldn't- save him. This is the world that Louie owns, now, the world of which he has become the vengeful monarch. This is the world of the King of Bugs.
Kudos: 13





	1. Coronation of the King

**Author's Note:**

> AU time, AU time! This one's been going on for a while, over on my tumblr, and I decided it was about time for me to post it here. The main reason I haven't posted it here was because the first part of this wasn't actually a fic, but just a loose, summarized idea? And then the first fic written for it wasn't actually written by me, but a fanwork of my fanfic au idea, and the person who wrote it has, unfortunately, since deleted it.  
> At any rate, the following fic is the first one I wrote, as a follow-up to the one written for me. And, you can read the original summary I wrote (with a couple of concept art pieces!) here, if you want to: https://pikfic.tumblr.com/post/180270055440/i-came-up-with-an-idea-for-an-au-in-which-louie

Louie stood in the dark, peering down at the two limp forms on the ground before him. He knew that, morally speaking, he should feel bad about that, at what his hands had wrought, but…

He had changed, he had. He was different now. He was-

He was a king, now. _The_ king. Things were different.

Blinking a little, he stepped forward and crouched down by the bodies. Captain Olimar’s death has been harder- harder because of the almost-second-thoughts about it, because of the memories flickering in the back of the king’s mind. Memories of battles fought side by side, and wounds tended to in the depths of a metal prison floating in space. Of slow anger and quick forgiveness and a quiet smile despite the hell they were in. That’s why Olimar’s death had been harder, and faster, too. More merciful, as much mercy as Louie could manage, were he capable of such.

That’s not to say it was quick, just comparatively so. Olimar had put up a good fight, guiding his pikmin with skilled expertise, and Louie would be lying if he said it was easy. But once he had gotten Olimar down, he had made it fast, a quick, powerful shock to stop the captain’s heart.

He hadn’t toyed with Olimar the way he had the president.

Because once Olimar was out of the way, the incompetent old fool was virtually defenseless. Sure, he could fend off loan sharks like nobody’s business, but he didn’t have Olimar’s experience in fending off beasts many times his own size with only a ragtag group of remaining pikmin. If not for Olimar, Louie doubted the president would have even made it so far.

As it was, the president was there, defenseless, and Louie couldn’t deny the strange, sickening glee that made his throat tighten at the sound of the same voice that had so long commanded his labor now begging for his mercy. But in time, he grew bored of even this, bored of tossing the tubby, miserable man around, bored of cracking the oh-so-expensive helmet just a little more to allow more poison air to seep in ever faster, ever faster. Eventually, Louie grew bored, or perhaps too angry, and that was the end of that.

And so now he knelt beside their collapsed bodies, surveying his work.

What had he said? …Ah, yes, the _King of Bugs_. What a fitting title, what a fitting title for a slimy little _worm_ like he. He who had, in a fit of self-loathing rage, slain the only two people who had any real importance in his life! Sure he had hated the president, but the greedy Hocotatian had been the only person Louie could find on the whole of Hocotate who was willing to pay him a living wage- even if it was slightly below the legal minimum. And Olimar, good old Captain Olimar, the only person who came to mind when Louie tried to recall any good deed, any act of kindness aimed at him.

And both of them dead, as good as if Louie’s own fingerprints still marked their throats! _Outrageous_.

As Louie rose, gloves hands clenched into fists at his side, a rueful chuckle escaped his throat. The only two people who could challenge his claim of royalty, dead, by his hand! His first act as king was the execution of those who could dethrone him.

As he stood there laughing, the Titan Dweevil, his instrument of destruction, let out a rumble, crouching over him. It had fought hard, and it was hungry for its prey.

Louie paused a moment, eyeing his dead coworker and employer. He was hungry, too, and had expended a terribly large amount of energy.

...But no. Louie had changed, yes. He was a king, now. And he knew there was something not exactly right with his head, this mixed up, terrible, powerful anger burning coldly in his mind. But he wasn’t _that_ messed up, nor _that_ desperate. And besides, he had Olimar and the president to thank for his newfound royalty. The least he could do was send them off with all the dignity he had denied them in their deaths.

But how? To bury them here would leave them as a meal for the Titan to dig up as soon as Louie left. And he couldn’t take the Titan with him, it was too big to make it out through the small passages of the caves. And he couldn’t carry the two to the surface for a burial, they were too heavy for him to lug that far.

 _Well_ , he mused, looking up at the dweevil. _I do have fire._

So as Louie strode towards the geyser that would carry him out, his head down, shoulders squared, and jaw clenched, it was the light of the funeral pyre that lit his way.

Trial by fire, as they said, Louie supposed, and he had come out burned by his own crown of fire, named King of Bugs. 


	2. Water for the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Louie's rage is trivial in another's eyes

_**Water for the Fire** _   


Louie was under no false beliefs about why he continued to explore. About why he continued to reach out into this world despite how much he loathed it. It was spite. Anger. An unbridled, insatiable desire to sink his claws into it, rip it to pieces, and make it kneel before him. This planet had declared him its king and coronated him with the life of his captain, and if the planet wanted a violent, blood drenched king, then, well, far be it from Louie to deny it that request. He was going to be the most angry, destructive, tyrannical king this planet had ever seen. 

So he ventured on into the world. Every bug he met was almost instantly put under his thrall and made to fight the few creatures that could resist his mental pull. Those that survived each battle were given no time to recover, being instantly sent on to the next opponent. And when their bodies finally gave out, Louie let them fall and left them lying there to die.

So it was that he marched on a warpath, blazing a trail of destruction through his own kingdom, slaughtering his enemies and subjects alike.

In time, he eventually found himself wandering into familiar territory. The Perplexing Pool.

For a brief moment, Louie faltered. The place brought back memories, painful ones. A familiar voice and quick, motivated step, and a flash of red always coming to Louie’s rescue whenever he’d been beaten up by some creature or other, and a hand offering help up with an easy laugh, and “ _you’ll get them next time, champ. You won’t be knocked around forever._ ”

Louie bit his lip, drinking in the sharp pain. This is where it had started in earnest, the loathing, the resentment. Not for Olimar, never for the fatherly captain who had done nothing but protect him. But this was where Louie had first truly felt that sharp spike of anger in his throat. The hatred roiling in his stomach. The unplacatable discontentment with his unchangeable lot in life.

Here, specifically, this cavern. The one Olimar had named the Submerged Castle. And that hellspawn creature that had hunted them relentlessly.

Louie’s throat tightened. The Water Wraith. It was that… thing’s… rage that had first flown through Louie’s veins, first begun to influence him. It was the Water Wraith that had set him down the path to becoming king.

Each breath a conscious effort to force air into his chest rigid with anger, Louie practically launched himself into the cave.

The Water Wraith. It had been the Water Wraith.

The cave seemed a lot darker than it had before. Maybe it was because Louie was alone this time. 

He was less afraid, this time, too.

Louie moved quickly through the tunnels. His strides were long and heavy, his shoulders back and head lowered, and he looked only straight ahead. No longer distracted by what treasure might still lie in the depths, Louie moved with purpose, quickly descending into the lowest reaches of the Submerged Castle. And when he finally fell to the lowest level, he just waited. 

It would come. It had to come. Louie could feel it, the pull in his gut, the prickle on the back of his neck.

It would come.

And it did. Louie heard the crash of its rollers slamming into the ground somewhere behind him. 

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t run, didn’t yell.

Didn’t fear. 

Louie turned and saw it barreling down on him. He stood his ground, locked in place, every muscle tensed to the point of trembling, burning with an unmatched rage.

Just as it seemed the Water Wraith would run him over, it stopped, looming over him.

Louie just glared up at it. Why didn’t it kill him? Why didn’t it just run him over, as it should’ve so long ago?

Louie didn’t know. Maybe it sensed something of itself in him, that little bit of it that pulsed through his heart, and it didn’t want to kill that. Or maybe, maybe, it was just another part of this nightmare hell designed to torture Louie, and it wouldn’t be the one to end his suffering, not yet.

After another moment, the Water Wraith rolled around Louie, leaving him standing there. The thundering of its rollers tapered off, and Louie knew he was alone again.

Alone again, and still alive, still burning up from the inside out.

Louie just fell to his knees.


	3. King's Mantle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the King of Bugs acquires his cape

Louie knew how to skin an animal. Working often with meats, one learned the quickest and most efficient methods to remove all unwanted, unflavorful bits, and often that included the skin.

This time was… different, though.

Having cut along the bulbear’s stomach and around its legs, Louie paused his work for a moment to look up at what remained of the ship. It was true that its death- if you could call the end of a non living thing a real death- had been by his hand. In the Titan Dweevil’s den, the ship had tried to intervene when Louie went to end the captain, and Louie had been just as ruthless with it as he had been with Olimar and the president. He had been the one to smash apart the machinery and rip out vital circuitry. He had killed it. But just as he had given his captain a proper funeral, or at least watched his body burn in weary silence, Louie had intended to leave the lifeless hull of the ship still standing as a memorial to its service.

Lip curling, Louie turned back to the bulbear. His blade was only a sharpened rock, but the bulbear was big. He was sure that with some work, he could get off a decent cut of its skin. So he started cutting away at one of its hips, trying to wedge the rock between its skin and muscle.

He had come to the ship to do… something. He wasn’t entirely sure what, but he had intended to do something. Something to finalize it, in a sense. A funeral of sorts. To recognize that the ship, too- however artificial- was slain by his hand. But when he had gotten there, he had found the bulbear clawing at the ship’s entryway, having already knocked it over, no doubt trying to search inside for something edible.

Having separated a chunk of skin from flesh, Louie folded the skin over and started to pull. It stretched a little, then gave, ripping off the body. He hadn’t cut far enough, then. He tossed the scrap of skin aside and started on the other leg to try again.

He hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it yet. Controlling them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure how he did it, only that he could, with some success, make the beasts of this world do what he wanted. And even then, he still failed, on occasion.

But when he saw the bulbear, bending apart the ship’s already damaged hull, Louie made no conscious effort to control it. Didn’t even want to control it. He just lunged forward, screaming, brandishing the same rock he was now using to cut away the bulbear’s skin. He might’ve still subconsciously forced his will onto the bulbear; held it still, kept it from resisting. But he wanted to do this with his own hands.

This time, Louie got a bigger chunk of the bulbear’s skin away. He folded it over and pulled again, and this time, it lifted smoothly, separating from the bulbear’s meat in a long, continuous swath. When it pulled up towards the beast’s eyestalks, Louie dropped it and scooted forward to cut it off. That was more than enough.

He couldn’t right the ship. It was far, far too heavy. The bulbear had probably only just been strong enough to tip it in the first place.

The skin didn’t cut cleanly off the bulbear. It ripped in yet another jagged line, leaving the edge of the skin in tatters.

That was fine, though, Louie thought, looking at the warped metal of the sideways ship. A broken memorial, set by a furious king. That was fine.

He still had work to do, of course. Had to stretch the skin. Dry it. Tan it. But for now, for now, he slung it about his shoulders and let it hang over his back, still with bits of fat and meat clinging to the underside, still dripping with blood, still ragged and torn along the bottom.

A broken memorial.

Yes, the furious king thought, making a face that would’ve been a smile were it not so angry.

A broken memorial. That was just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asof right now, I do only have three fics for this au. But (shameless self promo time) I do have a bit more non fic King of Bugs au content on my tumblr blog, as well as an open inbox to receive prompts for the au, if you want more of it!


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